Dear Santa Klaus
by Rockeman
Summary: what Spot wants more than anything is a family, but Santa refuses. But, when one of his elves takes matters into her own hands, things get a little dicy.
1. Default Chapter

Hey to everyone! This is not the first fanfiction that I've written but it's an idea I got this morning while being in the Christmas spirit…and being extremely sugar high. There is a character in this story that is directly-indirectly based upon me, but you won't find out until the second chapter, which I will post tomorrow, if all goes well. I plan to post the last chapter on the 26th—yet again—if all goes well. That's a lot of hope, but I'm getting into the Christmas spirit, so don't blame me.

**Disclaimer:** you'd better watch out, you'd better not cry, you'd better not pout I'm tellin' you why…Then the Newsies will belong to me and only me. But seeing as how you've been good this year (darn personal values) they don't...yet

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**Chapter 1**

_Dear Santa Klaus,_

The newsie seemed unhappy with such a simple beginning, he quickly tore up the small piece of paper and started again. It would be too bad if the man got offended because he was addressed too familiarly. The newsie thought hard and wrote slowly.

_To: Chris Cringle_

_Sir;_

_I would like to report in this letter that since the 'incident' I have been as well-behaved as possible. I have had some set backs, but have overcome most of my temptations with a toss of the head and a resolution that I really need what I'm asking for this year. I am hard on my boys, but I'm in charge, so I need to keep on top of them as much as possible. I hope that if my being harsh would be a reason for you to hesitate on giving me gifts this year, this would be taken into consideration._

_I've heard that you only give presents to the very best children, and the richer ones get presents from their parents if they deserve them or not. I have no delusions, and do not expect that I've been good enough to deserve what I'm asking for, but I would like a family. Anyone, any family, not just the ties I have with my boys or anyone I know now, but someone who's always going be there because they have to, but also because they choose to. _

_Christmas is just 12 days away but I know that you can do anything, so I'm asking you as hopefully as I can. Please, I want a family this Christmas, more than anything. _

_Being as good as possible,_

_Spot Conlon._

The newsie sealed the envelope and pasted his last precious stamp on the top right corner. Care of…care of what? North Pole? Well, he had to think of something.

_Santa Klaus  
Head office  
__North Pole_

That didn't seem like it would go anywhere, not without numbers or anything. Well, the man would probably get it if he managed to go around the world in one night. Spot sighed. Now the hard part was getting to the mail box without anyone seeing him. He bounded down the stairs, checking around the corner to make sure no one was coming, and slipped through the doorway, coming within two feet of the mail box before he was viciously apprehended…by Patrick.

Spot groaned inwardly. He'd never get away now. This kid was not only way too curious for his own good, he was also constantly sugar high, and around Christmas, it only got worse.

"Heya, Spot!" Patrick was jumping from foot to foot, licking a candy cane like it was the last one on earth. "So? What's the letter for?"

"Um, I'm writin' ta…me goil…yeah, I's writin' ta me goil, so…" he summoned up his best glare, reserved especially for Patrick, who ran whenever he saw anything that looked like he was supposed to keep it a secret. "_Scram_." He uttered those words with a large heaping of fake suspiciousness, but Patrick ate it up. On his way out the door (at a hundred miles per hour) he winked at Spot.

When he was finally out the door and the letter safely deposited Spot heaved a huge sigh, and decided to go chew on his pillow until he was allowed to wallop someone on the 26th.

The mailman paused, almost impatient, outside of the lodging house, before unlocking the box. Letter to Grandma in Kentucky, complaint to Pulitzer, love letter, love letter, love let—no wait. The mailman smiled and pulled his hat down a little, putting that one in a smaller bag hanging on his right side.

He knew exactly where this one was going, as all good mailmen know, and as he grabbed a pencil from behind his pointed ear he also knew who it was going to. He pulled the envelope out of the bag again and erased the address that Spot had written. The mailman carefully jotted down…

_Santa Klaus: O.M.  
__Head office, Toy workshop  
__Building 295, level four  
__Region 1, North Pole_

As the mailman approached the proper deposit slot outside of Woolworth's. He just hoped Angie would be paying attention to the mail that crossed her desk today.

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The next chapter will be longer, I promise (crosses self) no, wait, I'm not Catholic! (does 'scouts honor') there, much better. Read and Review!!! This means you too, Freddy... 

**Racetrack:** (throws hat on the ground, being as intimidating as possible) Yeah, read and review, oah I's gonna…

**Rockeman:** Cool it, Race. I happen to know he's twice your size…

**Racetrack:** (looking stung) you don'twant me ta defend ya any moah? youmean…(gulps) you loves him moah den you loves me?

**Rockeman:** Weeeeellll…I didn't want to say it so bluntly…but yeah…

Racetrack has flung himself in a corner and is weeping bitterly on Dutchy's shoulder. Do have fun, and I suggest that the lot of you make gingerbread newsies…you know, gingerbread men with little things of frosting for the hats, and licorice for suspenders. Kudos.


	2. Chocolate Troubles

Haha! Second chapter! I have victory against the Russian Postal service, Bow before me!!! (clears throat) so, anyway, I finished this chapter last night. If this goes according to plan I'm actually only going to need one more chapter before the last one. This is going to be kinda short for a story, but stick with me. It's good. I have two shout outs. Gee thanks to for not ever letting my fic get on the major stories page and banishing me to the 'just in' until it was too late. Feel so loved. God love the people who reviewed

**Petals:** Gracious of you to say so.

**Ducks-go-quack-00:** I know, Spot's such a cute little sprocket. I always thought he needed a hug more than he needed respect. Pooooor baby. Oh, yeah, I updated soon does victory dance.

**Disclaimer: **I don't own Newsies, I don't own Santa, and I don't own any of my classmates that I used in this chapter. I do, however, own Angie, Officer Fuzzy, and all of the lowlifes in the mail room. Oh, yeah, and I don't own my mother.

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Chapter 2

Angie raked her hands through her already messy hair and sat back heavily in her high-backed chair. Mail to the big man. This was not only about 159 years too old but it also gave her a migraine, especially this close to Christmas.

All the mail was vaguely posted too—nary a specific building, but all addressed to Santa. The really heavy ones, the ones that came in manila envelopes, were immediately rushed out to be used as kindling in the larger furnace in the middle of the lobby, but the thinner ones were carefully sorted through by the lowlifes in the mail room. They then were sent to their respective buildings. Boys-building 342, Girls-building 105, he/she/its-building 95.

These were just the ones that were basically lists, rewritten carefully by the scribes in the List Room, but letters that had something more to say to Santa (pleas for mercy) or more obscure gifts, as in, immaterial objects, such as love, or a best friend, they all had to come across Angie's desk. She also had a lot of other paper work to do. Angie was, in very simple terms, Santa's secretary.

Angie's hair was getting in her face, and the fact that it wouldn't grow long enough for her to really tuck it behind her ears was not making things better.

"Hoi, I'd like some coffee…that is, if we elves were _permitted_ to drink coffee." She stated this rather bitterly as she contemplated serving herself a large mug of hot chocolate from the chocolate maker. This was, however, also against one of the many unwritten rules. Life was just peachy. Well, Angie consented to herself, more like, blizzardy.

The more Angie shuffled through the paper on her desk, going through and sorting 'pleas for mercy' 'desperate wishes' and 'obscure-even-to-them gift ideas' the better the hot chocolate looked. It was the really good stuff…straight from brazil…rich, creamy…Angie shook her head violently. NO! Must. Resist.

She couldn't resist it any more, and this she realized only as she had taken her second sip. Oh, this stuff was good. Some of those Italians were weird about their coffee, but Elves were all finicky about their chocolate, and no one was more so than Santa himself. Perfect amount of cream (real cream)—Angie sighed and took another sip—just enough chocolate, and a lovely marshmallow sauce, along with a pinch of salt, just so it wasn't too sweet. But it also softened the water. Angie stopped pondering and just kept drinking.

"HHHHHHEEEEEEEEEEYYYYYYYYYYYAAAAAAAAAAAA!!!!!!!!!!" A large form burst through her office door at the speed of light, slamming the door violently behind it and vaulting over Angie's desk…and Angie.

The door then was kicked open, banging into the opposite wall (and the cat that usually hung around Santa's office) with a sickening crunch. A short Korean girl elf, walking in purposefully, glared in the direction of the large form, now laughing its head off near the door to Santa's office.

"Look what you did, Ray! You crazy man, you nearly killed her! She could have inhaled the premium quality hot chocolate that she was drinking!"

"Whatever!" The laughing boy, now identified as Ray, said. He did, however, sort of help Angie off the floor where she was now choking on a large mouthful of hot chocolate that had not yet found it's way down to her lungs.

"Ohmygosh! Angie, is it caliente?" The Korean girl exclaimed, looking around for something to wipe up the hot chocolate with.

Angie looked about to reply when she heard a group of howls from under the floor.

"SON-OF-A-NUTCRACKER!!!!!" She ripped both shoes off and tugged at her stockings. She had to get this wiped up, as she quite nearly always forgot that, as much as she disliked the most of the losers in the Mail Room, her floor literally was their ceiling.

The breath quite gone out of her, her cheeks red, mug gone, and legs (unshaved) and extremely cold, Angie turned towards the intruders.

"OK…" Angie was advancing slowly, "Ray, Yoo Jin, you know I love you guys, but those stockings? You know the ones I just stuffed into the floor boards and are now completely ruined? Yeah, those were my new ones. Do you know how much those cost? Hmmmmmmm?" She had leaned close into their faces, her stress incredibly evident, and the bags under her eyes undeniable. Or, as least they would be, if Elves ever got bags. All I know is that they could tell after they had known each other a while. "26 PIECES OF CHOCOLATE…PURE…WHITE…"

The contorted look on Angie's face did not retract itself in the least as seven other people burst into her office. The list is as follows.

lowlife # 1 from the Mail Room, telling her that he was going to get her sooner or later and that he knew that she was in league with the Russians.

Lowlife # 2 from the Mail Room, asking her for those forms she sent him that afternoon, again, but in triplicate this time, and try not to spill Santa's best chocolate through the floorboards.

The head of the Last-Minute toys production department, telling her that she had a few extra boxes of paper work, none of the information for which she knew.

The accountant, asking for the answer to 598,748 plus 1

One of her friends, Myung Ho, from the Pillow Testing room who was already half asleep, wondering if she had any Benadryll, as he was heavily allergic to goose feathers.

Se Ho, Myung Ho's little brother, wondering where they had stashed the candy canes in the snack room.

Officer Fuzzy, from the local Polar-Bear Police force, informing her that she had four tickets on her sled already and if she would like another one she was welcome to it.

She had never liked that Bear.

Angie went very quiet and tried to calm everybody down, and had nearly succeeded, when the 10th assistant scribe, Freddy, walked in.

"Say, Angie," He raised an eyebrow mischievously, "After running all the way to work from your house to work this morning, I thought your legs would be a bit sore. Want me to rub them for you?"

The color of Angie's face at this point could be called, perhaps, mulberry red, or perhaps, vibrant holly berry, but about two seconds after this comment (and the repeated 'looks' from all personnel in the room) she turned a grayish white, her whole body shaking with rage.

"…out…" This was spoken in a very quiet voice, and even lowlife # 1 was listening. "If any of you come into my office again, without a signed court order straight from Judge Rudolf, I will viciously murder every…single…one of you. And Freddy? Go jump off Chasm St. Bridge." She walked carefully over to the door, picked a package of Benadryll out of Myung Ho's own pocket, shoved it in his hands, and with a malicious look in her eye, watched every single one of her visitors walk out the door.

When she closed the door behind them she came to her senses.

"Holy Ned! It's _Sigfried_!" Ah, yes, that poor cat. One large growl, a good deep scratch on Angie's right arm, and the cat staggered, as best it could, out the window. Her day could calm down now. Hopefully, anyway, as she swore off the hard Chocolate forever. Well, almost forever.

**Two hours later...**

Angie had, by this point calmed down quite a bit and was taking deep cleansing breaths, all the while grateful that those Pilates classes (which she had quit) had been somewhat useful. There was still a large pile of letters on her desk, but it had dwindled from its original size and was slowly disappearing. She knew almost every one of the senders from previous letters as well.

Sophie, Daniel, Thomasphilink (poor kid, Russian Parents), And, oh, a new one. The Kids that wrote every year actually had something to say to Santa, and although the old man was getting grouchier by the decade he still loved fan mail. This, however, didn't look like fan mail. The spelling was bad, the grammar worse, and the paper was…

Tearstained.

With more interest, Angie reread the letter, not knowing what to make of it, until she remembered. It was that kid. He wanted a family. Angie shook her head, not wanting to believe it, and still completely understanding. She had been the only one on his side, hadn't she? But he was still proven guilty, and while she had known it all along—she shrugged—it wasn't his fault. He was on the permanent Naughty list.

Angie giggled. Holy, that sounded wronger every year. Hmmm…was 'wronger' a word? Well, it was now.

She shook her head. This was important. This could take him off the Naughty list—Must not think bad thoughts—she had to go talk to Santa. OK, take the approach, slowly, sound like you've been working hard, oh, sparkle on cheeks; look as elfish as possible. Open door meekly. "Excuse me, Santa?"

"What do you want?"

Oh dear, bad mood. Gosh g'dain it. "Um, there's a letter I would like you to look at, that is, if you don't mind," there was a long pause, while Santa looked at her ominously. If only she had never applied for this job. "Well, you see, this kid, he's new on the 'vague wishes' list," Santa nodded, this was good, make it sound interesting, "And, well, he's admitted that he hasn't been good all year, but he's been trying, and he's asked for a family." Angie cringed. It came out too soon. She needed to keep him interested, keep him wondering. She was hoping it wasn't going down the toilet.

Santa nodded, seeming pleased. "Well, that doesn't sound so bad. I haven't had too many of those in a while. You know the last kid that sent me a letter about his family was asking me to make them leave him alone? Shows you how children are becoming these days." Santa added a few 'tsk tsk's before returning his attention on Angie.

Angie knew that if she didn't start telling the truth now it wasn't going to ever work. "The fact is, sir, he's about 16 years old."

Santa's eyebrows shot up in surprise. "Really? Don't get many of those either. I think I'll contact Miss Fate and see what she can do. Thanks for coming to me about this, Angie, good work."

Angie pressed forward. "There's more, sir. This might take awhile to…um…procure."

"That's alright, I'll talk to Father Time as well, no sweat."

"Well, yes, sweat sir," Angie lay the letter on his desk carefully, pulling her hand from the envelope hesitantly. "It's from Spot Conlon."

The great, exuberant, jolly figure didn't look so exuberant or jolly anymore. He was, in fact, frowning, quite potently, from underneath his bushy eyebrows. He dropped the letter on his desk with an air of finality. "Angie, we've been over this. No can do. He killed another kid."

"But sir, he's not asking for anything material. He's getting better, he wants love, you can see that in his letter."

"I'm sorry Angie, but I cannot take anyone off the permanent Naughty list once they've placed themselves there."

"But it was an accident, and he gave at least ¾ of his life savings to the boy's family. He didn't eat for two weeks," She sat down heavily on the chair across from Santa's desk before standing up and beginning to pace. "He's not a killer. He was remorseful, you have to listen to him, please…" She faced him, not caring so much to look elfish, but wanting to hear the best.

Santa sighed. "Angie, he's a good boy, but you have to learn that it's different for humans. One mistake can mess up your life, and as short as that is, you have little chance to fix it. He may not be taken off the Naughty list. I can't give him anything, I'm sorry."

Tears pricked behind Angie's eyes. It couldn't happen, that was the end of it. She thanked Santa and backed out of the room, closing the door carefully. Walking over to her desk she noted the time. 5:29 Time to go home. Angie packed her things carefully, picked up her key ring, chocolate-cube pouch (wondering if she had enough in it for the parking meter fine) grabbed the box of paperwork she had to hand in the next day and closed her office door shut behind her.

On her way out the door, while Angie shouted good-byes to everyone, she dropped the letter in the central fireplace, hoping Spot would get what he wanted anyway.

**At Home...**

"Angie, what's wrong, hon, you've barely touched your Antler stew."

"nothin', mom," Angie looked up through her messy hair into her mother's kind, brown eyes. "Mom, what if you didn't have a—I mean, what if you had done something bad, then you tried to fix it, but people didn't care—that you tried to fix it, I mean—and then when you asked them to do something really important for you, they wouldn't?"

Angie's mother raised an eyebrow and looked squarely at Angie. "I would be disappointed, why?"

"Oh, well, what if…" Angie looked down at her soup, "Never mind."

Mother picked up Angie's hand and held it for a minute. "Sweetie, I know that it's hard working for Santa, but with all those kids, you can't be expected to fix everything. You're only 342 years old."

Angie smiled a little. "I love you mom," She sighed, "I don't know what I would do without you. I mean, if I didn't have you and dad, and the boys and Annie…I'd be pretty miserable…"

Angie looked up from her soup. "Mom, what would you do if that thing you asked for was a family, you know, that nobody would give to you?"

Angie's mother looked suspiciously at Angie. "What are you getting at, Angie?"

Angie jumped up, throwing her carved chair backwards and rushing to get her green-striped pajama stockings, boots, and picking up her overcoat. "Nothing, I've gotta get back to the office, I left something there."

Before her mother could stop her, Angie had vaulted herself over the bottom half of the dutch door and was sprinting down the street. She had to talk to everyone, they'd understand, maybe—Angie turned down a side street, avoiding Officer Fuzzy—maybe Spot would get what he wanted after all.

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Aha! You like it! I knew you would please, for the love of everything, review. I love you guys...not as much as I love Racetrack, but CLOSE, so don't get picky. Oh, yeah, and have yourself a Merry little Christmas... 


	3. A Pointless Exchange

Hello to the people's that reviewed. I love you, you know? Every last one of you, just in case you weren't sure, I'll love you till the day I die…almost. Not. AHAAAA!

Oh, yeah, and I'm feeling deeply apologetic towards all of those people that actually wanted me to update. I feel ashamed of me'self…shuffles feet and looks properly ashamed

**Ducks-go-quack-00: **hands back certificate I'm sorry, my computer stopped working until after Christmas and then I was so ashamed of myself that I started procrastinating…heavily. I'm sorry…sobs so terribly sorry sniff but if you forgive me and want to read this chapter, be my guest!

**Petals**: Bestest is most definitely a word, so don't sweat it. Thank you for reviewing, and yes, there's always explanations to every bad thing that someone does wrong…unless they're a murderer, and then they can just rot in jail and be repeatedly beaten, before sent to the electric chair…sighs OK, done venting

**Time is a waste of life: **You're right, the poor boy does need a hug, so I'm designating you the official Spot-hugger, just in case you were wondering. I'm sure he'd appreciate it.

**Spot: **Oh, yeah, bring in the ladies!

See what I mean? The fact that he's so under-loved in this fic just takes a toll on his mental well-being. I'm sure you can take care of that…

**Now…on with the show...A POINTLESS EXCHANGE...CHAPTER # 3**

A rather formidable group stood before Angie, awaiting explanations, and, Angie deduced—if all went well—instructions. The number had grown since her initial calculation, but it seemed that everybody was interested in something the Old Man wouldn't condone. Let's see, there were, in all…

Jennifer, the reindeer trainer and caretaker, and Geneva's best buddy, who was known to make comments about Geneva's lunch supply of kim chi something to the affect of 'What died?'. There was also Se Ho. No one was really sure what Se Ho did, except bother people and eat candy, but they put up with him, and he had a girl he liked in the doll face painting department.

Se Ho's older brother, Myung Ho was half asleep all the time, literally. Once when there had been a whole group of people at Angie's house, her mother had commented that 'Muyng Ho is just a ball-a-fire, ain't he?'. He was the top pillow tester. Santa had to keep some of the more energetic children asleep, so anything that made Myung Ho fall asleep in under 2 minutes was alright. Everyone wondered why, with all the extra sleep he got, he was never very awake when he was technically conscious.

Ji Won, who was to be loved by Myung Ho until the day she died, was also one of Angie's best friends. Although rather abusive, slapping Angie periodically for no reason what-so-ever, and giving Myung Ho the daily brush-off, she had a kind side and a deep affinity for the color green. But one of the people who bothered her most was Raynaldo—the town crier. Ray had come with Yoo Jin, who was one of his best friends but he bothered people unconsciously because of the fact that he had never grasped the concept of 'I'm sitting next to you, please don't yell'. Yoo Jin, a sweet, extremely hyper young elf had her voice used in all the dolls that spoke, she just had to remember not to say anything too odd when speaking for the dolls, such as her renditions of 'Feliz Navidad' with the English verse in a Mexican accent.

And then, of course, came Freddy, the 10th assistant scribe, and the only one who ever managed to make Angie really embarrassed. Because Angie's mother forbid her to date at such a young age and relationships between coworkers was discouraged they merely pined for each other…and occasionally found each other alone in the snack room. Elena, who first became friends with Angie when they were both on security detail, whenever she could, kept the meetings between her friend and Freddy brief, but this was seldom done because she worked as a mural painter on other buildings and workshops.

Ana was tagging along, mostly because she had little else to do, but also because she was addicted to hot chocolate. She was the 24th assistant scribe, never promoted because of work left undone since about 132 years ago. She preferred to bother and date the boys in the Last Minute Toys Department.

Angie smiled, that was certainly a good enough crowd. She passed the Chocolate thermos and stood up, raising her hand for their attention.

"So, Angie," Jennifer interrupted from blowing bubbles in her hot chocolate, "What's all this about, anyway?"

"I was just getting to that, Jenn-Jenn. You remember the case of that kid in Brooklyn who killed some other kid by mistake?"

Jennifer nodded, "Yeah, something like Stripe, right?"

"Sort of—Spot. Well, I've been trying to get Santa to take him off the naughty list, because he was sorry and everything, but recently even I thought he wasn't any better."

"C'Mon Angie, get to the point, I have stuff to do." Ji Won had never been very patient.

"He wrote a letter that came into my office today, saying that he wanted a family for Christmas. It was really sad, and I asked Santa if he could do it, and he said sure, then I told him for whom it was, and he said no-can-do."

Elena looked up from doodling invisible lines on the armrest of her overstuffed chair long enough to look annoyed. "That's not very nice!"

"Well," Angie interposed, trying to finish, "I was hoping you guys would help me find him a family…"

The silence was so thick Elena opened her pocket knife and attempted to take a slice at it.

"Elena! We're not supposed to have pocket knives…" Angie commented, pointing to the weapon now in Elena's hand. It was then noticed by both girls that everyone was now playing with one, picking their teeth, or, in Se Ho's case, trying to cut Ana's hair, which was short enough anyway. Angie then sighed and pulled hers out of her green felt boot. "Alright, fine, can we get on with business?"

A general nod of assent was followed by a hesitant shake 'no'.

"Well? Are we gonna help him find a family or not? You guys were at the security monitors with me when it happened. I got promoted just afterwards from guard detail. You saw it happen, guys, let's help him out…"

Freddy stood up. "I'll help you Angie, but only if Ray and Yoo Jin come along…" The only words going through Angie's head were 'God Bless you, Fred,'. As long as Ray and Yoo Jin were invited they would go to a picnic in hell. Apparently they were not dissuaded from this opportunity either.

"Oh! Yeah, We'll come!" Shouted Raynaldo, gaining a wince from Ana, who had a headache, and a growl from Ji Won. Yoo Jin jumped up "Yeah! When do we leave?"

Angie was slightly startled. "Leave? Leave where?"

"To go pick him up, woman!" Yoo Jin looked exasperated, "We have to have him help pick his family out, right?"

A grin spread itself across Angie's face. "Absolutely, that is, if Ji Won says it's OK, Ji Won?"

The hesitant nod from Ji Won and Yoo Jin pounced on Angie. "Alright! Ji Won, show us the way!"

Within a half hour they all were standing inside the prototype room gazing dreamily at the sleigh they were to use. This was the prototype for the new sleigh, and it was loaded. Ji Won hadn't been steadily promoted for nothin'; she had been designing sleighs for the better part of 150 years and this was the newest one. It was fully functional, and all the glitches had been worked out, it was just deemed prototype because of Santa's constant inability to learn to drive the thing. Ji Won, however, being the one who knew every button, knew exactly how to drive it…this did instill a deep fear in almost everyone that was going with Ji Won, because they also knew how she drove…

Like a bat out of hell!

"Say, um, Ji Won, you wouldn't mind, would you, like, letting someone else drive? Possibly, Maybe?" The death glare that met Angie's worried face was enough for the entire contents of the sleigh, which came to Angie, Yoo Jin, Jennifer , Ray, Ji Won and a few 'sleeping-spray' aerosol cans. Angie and Yoo Jin were holding tight to one another, praying desperately that they would live through this, Jennifer had this excited and terrified expression on her face as she clung to her seat, while Ji Won and Ray were leaning forward, giggling madly as Ji Won revved the engine.

Jennifer leaned forward stiffly to give Ji Won some parting information. "Don't go too fast at first, and let the reindeer know that they still have the lift-off and pull that's giving you the speed. Don't drive them steadily at top speed, give them a few minutes in-between when you aren't going so fast so they can have a half-breather. Just remember, we don't have the time-stopper, so we really have to do this in one night."

Ji Won looked back at Jennifer with a scornful nose-twitch, "You mean, get to New York and back in approximately…" She looked at her watch, "seven hours! We've gotta go now."

Ji Won signaled to Se Ho, who, gratefully, stopped eating candy canes long enough to open the door of the garage.

announcer's voice And they're off! They fly down over Canada, eh, and now over Maine…wait, is that what I think it is? It is! The Brooklyn Bridge, ladies and gentlemen…the sleigh is now coming to land right on the roof of the Newsboy's lodging house in Brooklyn, New York City!

As Angie stepped off the sleigh, choking on the exhaust, Yoo Jin slapped Ray. "THAT was for telling me, every time we did a loopy-loop that we were going to die, but that I was going to fall out of the sleigh, FIRST!"

Ji Won shushed as she kicked Yoo Jin in the hindquarters. "You want all of New York to hear us?"

"Or wake up the leader of the Brooklyn Newsies?"

"Shut up, Angie!" Jennifer commented harshly, as she tried to feed the head reindeer a snack.

Angie looked offended, but it was hard to tell in that light. "I didn't say anything!"

"What do you mean, you didn't say anything, who said all that about the leader of the Brooklyn Newsies?"

"The Leader of the Brooklyn Newsies!"

"Ray! Shut up! If we're heard and we get caught, Santa's told us that he refuses to bail us out of a human jail. This is serious!"

"Well, who asked you in the first place, Jennifer!"

"I'll hit you, hard, Angie!"

-"I'll rip your arm off…"

"I don't freakin' care!"

-"Go blow it out your butt…"

"Oh yeah? Shove it up your…"

A loud yell emanated from a very frustrated newsie.

"_SPOT CONLON WANTS TO KNOW WHO YOUSE FRUITCAKES AH, AND WHAT DA HELL YOUSE DOIN' ON HIS ROOF!"_

"left nostril…"

The group fell silent for approximately 10 seconds, during which time Ray had gotten a large velvet sack out of the back of the sleigh and Jennifer started forward with a candy cane, the strait end of which was growing longer by the minute.

"What's goin' on, and who's dis, 'Santa'?" Spot's eyes widened as realization dawned…awfully slowly. "You mean…you woik foah…I mean youse…"

Angie nodded to Jennifer. "Cane him."

As Spot continued to blather on a very thin needle appeared at the end of the long cane, and Jennifer jabbed it quickly into his abdomen. The leader of the Brooklyn newsies stopped talking as he hunched over. Spot had felt it going in, and was almost sure it wasn't a knife blade, but he felt nothing now as darkness closed about him as if it was in some terrible hurry.

Somewhere in the flurry, maybe, he heard voices, but nothing mattered as he wondered if this was what it had been like to die. If this is what it had been like for Snipeshooter.


End file.
